


Over You

by Dramione84



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Pureblood Society, Romance, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione84/pseuds/Dramione84
Summary: It's been six moths since Oliver and Marcus broke up. When they both get invited to the same Ministry Gala, so begins the battle of who is more over who. Oliver he cannot show up at the Gala alone. He needs a date and only Hermione can secure this for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hexmionegranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexmionegranger/gifts).



> Inspired by Starving, a brilliant Flintwood story by the lovely Hexmionegranger. This is for you, my lovely Flintwood bae. With thanks to my girls for their beta skills, working like the elves from the story, The Elves and the Shoemaker (one of my faves as a child), as I slept. I love you guys xxxx

Oliver ground the palms of his hands into his bleary eyes as the pounding on his door increased.  Groaning loudly, he pulled himself from the couch, rubbing the palm of his hand against the coarse bristle on his cheek as he opened the door to his apartment.  

“Come in, I guess,” his hoarse voice muttered as Hermione and Pansy barged their way in, Draco Malfoy sauntering casually behind them.  

“You haven’t been answering the phone,” Hermione chastised as she surveyed the mess of takeaway containers and empty bottles of vodka with narrow eyes.

“Couldn’t find it,” Oliver mumbled, dropping heavily into the couch.

“Looks like it’s in here,” Pansy observed, her deep purple fingernail tapping on the glass of the fish tank as she frowned.  “Ollie, why do you have a fish tank with no fish?”

Oliver shrugged silently as Draco went to the fridge, opening it and staring at the bare shelves before shutting it once more, one eyebrow raised at Hermione.  Her eyes widened as she gave him a pointed look, the pair of them communicating silently before Draco huffed, beginning to open and close cupboards.  Finally, locating a box of tea bags, he filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

Hermione moved to the couch, frowning slightly at the state of Oliver in his plaid pyjama bottoms, his once-white tee shirt, and threadbare robe.  

“Ollie,” Hermione sighed as she sat on the edge of the couch next to him.  Oliver reached for the bottle on the coffee table reflexively, his fingers curling around the neck as he frowned, remembering he had finished the contents yesterday evening before passing out.

“It’s been six months,” Hermione whispered as Oliver shoved the empty bottle to one side.

“I know. Don’t you think I know?” Oliver snapped angrily, remembering the spectacular fight that had taken place.”

 

_ “I think you ought to leave.” _

_ “What?” Marcus cried, incredulity thick in his voice. _

_ Oliver licked his lip as he considered the words that had just fallen from his mouth.  Was this what he wanted? No. But was he about to let Marcus off the hook? No.   _

_ “You heard me,” Oliver yelled, his eyes flashing with the anger that rose in his chest.  “Out. Now!” He pointed at the door. _

_ Marcus’s jaw dropped open as he took in Oliver’s words.  Whatever words he was considering never came.  Instead, he closed his mouth, his jaw setting as he walked out, slamming the front door for good measure.  _

 

The worst part was being surrounded by Marcus’s things.  He hadn’t stepped back into their apartment since.  His whiskey was still on the sideboard.  His clothes were still in their closet.  His broom was still in the corner by the front door with all his trainers and shoes.  Everywhere Oliver looked there were reminders of him, and it made Oliver’s heart ache all the damned time.

Oliver shook his head, willing the images away as he focused on Pansy as she rifled through the pile of unopened letters, six unread editions of Quidditch Monthly, and yesterday’s  _ Daily Prophet _ .  Her manicured fingers skimmed over a gold envelope that shimmered.

She looked up at Oliver, her eyes locking with his.  “Do you know what this is?”

Oliver shrugged as Draco placed a mug of tea in front of him before settling in the mismatched armchair.

“It’s an invitation to the Ministry Gala next week.  It’s an exclusive event,” Pansy cried as she tore open the envelope, pulling out the parchment and thrusting it at Oliver.  

 

Hermione glanced at Oliver who made no moves to take the parchment from Pansy’s outstretched hand.  

“I’m not going,” Oliver stated, ignoring Pansy and Hermione’s shocked expressions as he suddenly got up from the couch, starting to pace.

Pansy shared a look with Hermione before she turned her head slightly, her gaze still fixed on Hermione.  “Why not?”

“Because  _ he _ will be there,” his gruff voice spat as he carded his hand through his hair.

Draco rolled his eyes, but Hermione silenced him with a look.  

“How do you know he will be there?” she asked, confused.

Oliver stopped pacing and rounded on her.  “His father is the main sponsor.  Of course he will be there,” he snapped, resuming his angry pacing.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, thoughtfully.  “His father is still in Bulgaria, finalising the arrangements for next year’s World Cup.  He won’t be there,” she told him, watching as he turned to her.  She paused, sensing his ruminations, eyes meeting his.

“You should still go,” Pansy suggested, picking up her cup from where Draco had left it on the coffee table.  “Show him you’re not wallowing in your apartment in self pity.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she met Draco’s over the edge of her mug.  “Even if it is true.”

 

“Remind me why you came over again?” Oliver muttered, meeting Hermione’s gaze once more.

“Because you didn’t come for Sunday brunch, again, even though you promised, again,” Pansy smirked.  “And I know you miss my sparkling wit.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Pans,” Oliver replied, his eyes fixed on Hermione’s still.

“I need a favour.”

“What kind of favour?”  Draco narrowed his eyes at Oliver, suddenly concerned about the intensity with which Oliver was looking at his girlfriend.

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“If I am going to go, and I am not saying I will,” he began, “I will need a date,” Oliver told her, his tone even.

“Are you asking out my girlfriend?  In front of me?” Draco asked, shocked at Oliver’s gaul.

“Hello? Gay,” Oliver drawled.

“So you are asking…” Hermione’s voice trailed off as Oliver nodded.

“You’re relationship is still new.  No one outside of our friends know you are dating,” Oliver shrugged as Pansy giggled, cottoning on.  Draco looked from Hermione to Oliver and back again.

“You want to borrow Draco,” Hermione stated, watching Oliver nod his confirmation.

Draco’s jaw dropped.  “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No,” cried Pansy and Hermione in unison.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

“...that sounds brilliant.  I will get my assistant to set up a meeting for next week so we can discuss your proposal in more detail, but I feel very positive about the forthcoming World Cup,” Pansy smiled into the receiver.  Twisting in her seat, she flipped open her diary, running her fingertip across her inked notes, looking up to see Marcus stride into her office.

“...Of course, that sounds…” 

Her next words were cut of as the dial tone sounded.  

“What the actual fuck?” she spat as she glared at Marcus whose palm was still pressed to her phone.

“Have you any idea how much trouble you could get me in?” she shrieked, her voice shrill.

 

Marcus leaned in, his lip curling as he sneered.

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “Seriously? You couldn’t intimidate me when I was eleven.  What makes you think you will be able to intimidate me now?”

Sighing, he dropped into the chair opposite her desk, his left ankle coming up and resting on his right knee as he folded his hands on his lap.

Pansy sat back in her leather chair, back ramrod straight as they sized each other up.  Marcus broke first, clearing his throat as Pansy suppressed the smug smile that twitched at the corners of her lips.  It was almost as much fun as breaking Draco.  Almost.

“I need a favour.”

 

Making a mental note to ring Hermione the second Marcus had left her office, Pansy raised one perfect eyebrow at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You know exactly what I am asking here,” Marcus informed her, his tone clipped.

Pansy eyed him suspiciously.  “Um, no, I’m not sure that I do,” she replied slowly, feigning confusion.

Marcus sighed as he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out the shimmering gold invitation, tossing it casually on Pansy’s desk.  For her part, Pansy paid the envelop little attention as Marcus sighed again to emphasise his boredom with their conversation.  If you could call it that, and quite frankly, he wasn’t sure you could call it one.

 

“I need a date,” he grunted, more than a little annoyed at the way she had forced him to admit his predicament.

“So go kiss and make up with Oliver,” Pansy supplied, shrugging nonchalantly, making a show of gathering her papers on her desk.

Marcus grunted, causing Pansy to look up sharply.

“No.  I need you to  _ be  _ my date.  I need to prove to him I am over him,” Marcus huffed, a slight stain colouring his cheeks.  

“Which you are not,” Pansy gave him a pointed look smirking as she slipped the paperwork into her desk drawer.

Marcus shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  “Obviously,” he drawled, elongating the syllables that were laced with disdain.

“But you don’t want him to know that,” Pansy confirmed.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at Pansy.  “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

“This is ridiculous,” Draco complained as he glared at his reflection in the mirror while fashioning his Windsor knot.

“Quit complaining,” Hermione sighed as she watched him from where she was perched on the edge of his bed. He huffed, deciding the knot wasn’t perfect and undid it to start again.

“Oh give it here,” Hermione sighed, coming to stand in front of him, swatting his hands away.  Draco watched her intently as her nimble fingers set to work on the perfect knot.  

“There,” she whispered, the palm of her hand smoothing the silk down, her breath hitching in her throat as she felt the planes of his chest underneath.  Tilting his head, he captured her lips with his own.

 

“Hands off my date,” the chestnut-haired Scot remarked, his tone mocking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest.

Draco frowned as Hermione slipped away, giggling.  

“Thanks for agreeing to this, Malfoy,” Oliver told him as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Draco snapped his cufflinks in place as he spoke.  “Technically, I did not agree to this; I was coerced.”

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Hermione pocketed her phone.  “Okay, Pansy says the coast is clear: the press have been kicked out,” she told Oliver and Draco, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle in the study in Draco’s suite.  

“Good because I am not exactly thrilled with the possibility of being outed to wizarding society in tomorrow’s papers,” Draco scowled as he carded a hand through his hair nervously.

“You could do worse than me, Malfoy,” Oliver retorted.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Oliver tapped his fingers nervously against the bar as he waited to be served, his eyes scanning the crowd.  He caught the glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye as it caught on the necklace of the raven-haired witch, twinkling.  Twisting round, he watched the beautiful raven-haired woman turn, showing off her emerald dress as her beau held her left hand up, his right wrapping securely around her waist.  As her beau stepped into the light, Oliver’s jaw dropped, instantly recognising Marcus.  

 

“Is that…” Oliver began as Draco reached him, nodding to the bartender.  

“Pansy, yes,” Draco confirmed, shoving a crystal tumbler of firewhiskey into Oliver’s trembling hand.

“Marcus is here with Pansy?”

 

Oliver felt himself pulled into memories of the god-awful dinner at Flint Manor and the spectacular argument that followed, culminating in Oliver throwing Marcus out of their apartment.

_ “When are you going to stop this ridiculous charade, Marcus?” Marcus’s father suddenly huffed, dropping his napkin onto the table angrily. _

_ Marcus said nothing. _

_ “Well? I require an answer.  We tolerated your little rebellion when you were a teenager, and said nothing while you bought that apartment in Muggle London, of all places, when you decided you were traumatised by the war, but this has gone on long enough,” his father ranted, face flushing crimson.  “You have obligations: obligations you can no longer ignore.  You need to find a wife and provide an heir.” _

 

_ Oliver watched on, silently, as Marcus averted his gaze, saying nothing.  Anger rising in his chest, he waited for Marcus to speak up in his defence, but Marcus remained silent.  Finally, Marcus’s father left the dining room, leaving his wife to show the young men to the floo. _

 

_ “I can’t believe you said nothing!” Oliver yelled as Marcus stepped out from the floo.  Silently, he strode over to the sideboard and grabbed the whiskey, a single malt Scotch that Oliver had given him for his birthday, unscrewing the cap moodily. _

_ “What would you have me say?” he spat, pouring the dark amber liquid into a glass. _

_ Oliver’s eyes widened.  “Anything! Anything would have been preferable to nothing.” _

 

Slamming the tumbler down on the bar, he grabbed Draco’s hand, half dragging him towards the dance floor.  

“Um, hello?” Draco gave Oliver a pointed look as the Scot rolled his eyes.

“I can’t let him win,” Oliver hissed, his right hand clamping down on Draco’s hip.  “I need to prove to him that I am more over him than he is over me,” Oliver told him as they started to move around the dancefloor.  Draco caught Pansy’s eye, sharing a silent look with her as she tried to suppress her amusement.     
  


Oliver guided them expertly across the dance floor, smiling at the other couples.  As they came past Hermione, dancing with Neville, Draco locked eyes with his girlfriend.  “Save me,” he mouthed at her.  “You will save me from this. Right. Now.”  Hermione smiled, pretending to be enraptured by Neville, ignoring Draco’s pleas.  She knew she would pay for her decision later.  In fact, she shivered a little at the thought, arousal building inside her, she was counting on it.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

“Marcus,” Pansy hissed, her smile taut.  

Marcus hummed his reply, staring over Pansy’s head as he guided her across the dance floor.  Pansy kicked his shin with her stiletto causing him to glare down at her, angrily.

“Ow! What was that for?” he hissed.

“You are cutting off the circulation in my hand,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, relaxing his death-grip on her hand, resuming his staring.  “I can’t let him win,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

“Let who win what now?” Pansy responded, twisting her head around.

“Oliver.  I need to win.  I need to prove to him that I am more over him than he is over me,” he told her as she frowned.  

“And how do you plan…” her words were cut off as she felt Marcus’s hot mouth covered hers, causing her eyes to widen with shock.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Oliver’s mouth gaped open as he saw Marcus look into Pansy’s eyes before dropping his lips to hers.  He closed his mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his parched lip as he felt himself flush.  Looking at Draco he stopped dancing, flashing him a half-hearted lopsided smile before nodding politely and turning away.

 

Suddenly, Hermione was by his side as he watched Oliver depart.  “What was all that about?” Hermione asked, turning to Draco, who continued to stare after him, shaking his head.   
“I have absolutely no idea,” he told her.

 

As Oliver strode over to the bar he replayed his accusation over in his mind, trying to stop the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes breaking forth.

 

_ “You said nothing because it’s true.” _

_ “What?” Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _

_ “Well, you are bisexual after all.  I am nothing more than a youthful experience before you settle down with an attractive pure-blooded wife and have pure-blooded-rightful-heir babies,” Oliver yelled. _

_ “What?” _

_ “I think you ought to leave.” _

_ “What?”  _

_ “You heard me,” Oliver yelled, his eyes flashing with the anger that rose in his chest.  “Out. Now!”  _

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Marcus broke away from Pansy, panting.

“What the hell, Marcus?” Pansy hissed as Marcus looked up to see Oliver striding towards the floo room.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping away from Pansy, who turned to watch him chase after Oliver, a smile breaking across her face.

 

Oliver was just about to step into the green flames as he felt a hand curl around his bicep, pulling him back.  Spinning around, ready to argue, he caught sight of Marcus, feeling his defences pull up around him like a fortress.

“What do you want?” he spat, derisively.

“What was all that about in there?” Marcus retorted, his lip curling into a sneer.

Oliver chuckled.  “Please, it never worked when you tried to intimidate me on the pitch, Flint, it’s not about to start working for you now.”

“Whatever.  Now, what the fuck were you doing here with Malfoy?” Marcus hissed.

Oliver glared, pointing a finger at him.  “I could ask you the same regarding Parkinson.  But then I already know,” he remarked, rolling his eyes and turning to face the floo.

 

Marcus spun him around once more.  “What is your problem?” he yelled, his face only inches from Oliver’s, hot angry breath ghosting across Oliver’s face.  

“Nothing,” Oliver retorted, trying to block out the intoxicating aroma of Marcus’s cologne.

“No? Didn’t look like ‘nothing’ when you were all over Malfoy.”

“Are you calling me a slut?” Oliver asked, his voice raising slightly, glaring at Marcus as he shoved him away, roughly.  “When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with.  I was done.  So all the boys, and all the bars, and all my obvious daddy issues, who cared? Because I was done.  You walked away.  You chose the easy way.  I'm all glued back together now.  I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke, or who I am with tonight."

 

Marcus’s jaw dropped.  “I walked away? I chose the easy way? You threw me out!” Marcus yelled.  “Nothing about this has been easy.  Nothing.  Why do you think I never came back for my stuff? Why do you think I never took away from you the apartment I bought?  You were the love of my life.”

 

Oliver stumbled as he tried to process what Marcus was telling him.  “What about your family's expectations regarding a wife and heir?  What about Pansy?”

Marcus averted his eyes.  “She owed me a favour,” Marcus replied, glaring when Oliver began to chuckle.  “Hermione owed me, too.”

Marcus tilted his head slightly, frowning.  “How does that work?”

Oliver chuckled again, nervously, as he shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning so his backside was pressed against the wall, half leaning towards his former lover.  “Long story, won’t bore you with the details.”

 

Taking in his words, Marcus reached out tentatively to push Oliver’s fringe out of his face, humming his response.  Oliver’s eyes closed at the contact and it was all he could do not to lean into his touch.  

“I’ve tried living without you, Ollie.  It isn’t possible,” Marcus told him as he stepped closer, his lips tantalisingly close.

Oliver’s tongue darted out of his mouth, running along the seam of his parched lip in a way that made Marcus want to moan, the coil of need tightening in his abdomen.

“What about your family?” Oliver whispered, concern etched across his face as he looked up at Marcus.

“You are my family,” Marcus told him. “But if you are honestly over me, I will walk away and let you get on with your life.”

Oliver shook his head.  “I’m not over you, any more than you are over me.”

“Good,” Marcus whispered as he claimed Oliver’s lips with his own.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: "When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the boys, and all the bars, and all the obvious daddy issues, who cared? Because I was done. You left me. You chose Addison. I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke." Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy Season 2 Episode 24: Damage Case. All rights belong to ABC and Shonda Rimes. No copywrite infringement is intended.


End file.
